


Undeath

by Carliro



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: Mushroom War, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 09:43:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carliro/pseuds/Carliro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Lich talks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undeath

I am rot.

I am the gradual and inevitable withering, life's dreadful finale and it's last dying words, it's painful, bile filled whispers and supplicatory calls, it's black, necrotic blood oozing from the edges of the mouth, it's final gasps, as the life-giving air becomes toxic and penetrating.

I am the Omega, the conclusion to all things, as fire becomes ash, love becomes hatred and light becomes empty, cold darkness.

I am horror, all things that nature has feared for eternity, images of decay burned in the consciousness of all things, who fear to become in the likeness of me.

Most importantly, I am here because all life begged me to exist, implored the heavens and the depths for there to be an end, a liberation, a destruction, a corruption of it's desires to live.

Yes, that is right, everyone begged, implored, prostituted themselves in order for there to be a murderer, a life stealer, a monster, to make sure their pitiful flesh becomes pale, rotten and tattered, for there to be piles of necrotic tissue where once was verdant bloom, for all to be nothing, absolutely nothing but the most putrid, pathetic little objects the universe has seen fit to create.

I was born out of those prayers, just like manna from Heaven, descending in a flash of light, the "Sun on Earth", as they once called those things.

And, as the rightful bastard child of the Sun, this world belongs to me.

I was born of the green light in that radiance, that became sickly lakes of fire, because of the people's fearful, hilariously masochistic hymns, imploring and begging in the most intense lust for there to be not just destruction and anihilation, but for there to be opression, for there to be a force out there that justifies the human craving for paranoia, for self-righteous delusions of persecution, for there to be a face they can punch, that they can vow to destroy when all else is lost.

Very simplistic, those human creatures.

Naturally, I obliged with said demands.

After all, who am I to deny the pleas of a bunch of pathetic sadomasochists who cannot bear that there is no white or black, just pure, fog-like gray?

I may be horrendous beyond imagining, but I still grant people's wishes.

And indeed, it was invitable that this happened.

Several thousands of years of begging for an ultimate evil are bound to be rewarded in kind, are they not?

But, you know, although my duty to life's true will is fathomlessly diligent, I cannot help but imagine why they are hypocrital, why they crave for suffering whilst pretending to want freedom and pleasure.

Is it because they are conditioned to be this stupid, or is it because, at some point in it's history, life learned to be self-righteous and knew that it needed a persecutor in order for the masses to worship it as if it was a deity?

Is this all because sapience is correlated to a desire to be divine?

Whatever the reason, it wished me to life, and I will dutifully fulfill my job description.

It's unethical to avoid the function you were born to perform.


End file.
